Waking Up to a Contract Marriage with the Film Queen - Chapter 4

Hearing Le Yiqiu’s declaration, Luo Luo looked like she wanted to tie her friend to a post and parade her through the streets as a warning to others.

How was she supposed to save her best friend from such a terminal case of “romance-brain”?

Luo Luo let out a dry, mirthless laugh. “You two have been married for five years, and I haven’t seen you make a single romantic move on her for a holiday yet. No wonder you’re getting a divorce.”

“Why haven’t I made a move?”

From Luo Luo’s tone, Le Yiqiu could tell that her future self had been deeply, perhaps even desperately, in love with Lin Xianing. Based on her own personality, if she truly liked someone, she would be proactive; she’d be chasing them with everything she had.

Luo Luo’s words implied she lacked a romantic bone in her body, but Le Yiqiu suspected something else—perhaps she hadn’t even tried to pursue Lin Xianing. That was the real shocker.

“How should I know? You hardly ever talked to me about your life with her,” Luo Luo said, giving her a strange look. “Did that hit to the head make you stupid? Shouldn’t you be the one who knows your own marriage best?”

Le Yiqiu frowned. When did I become so secretive with Luo Luo? I didn’t even go to her for advice?

“If I told you I have amnesia,” Le Yiqiu said weakly, “would you believe me?”

“Huh?”

Luo Luo froze for a second before frantically slamming the nurse’s call button. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?!”

Normally, she would have assumed Le Yiqiu was joking, but with a fresh head injury, anything was possible. They were in a hospital, after all—better to let the professionals handle it.

After another round of tests, the verdict was in: post-traumatic amnesia. The doctors said it could clear up in a few days, or it might never come back at all.

Once the medical staff left, Luo Luo tried to process what she’d just heard. “So… you don’t remember anything from the last ten years?”

Le Yiqiu nodded. “The last thing I remember is finishing tennis and making plans with you for that night. Then I woke up and… here I am.”

“What plans?”

It had been ten years; Luo Luo’s memory of the specifics was a total blank.

“August 11, 2013,” Le Yiqiu said clearly. To her, it was only a few days ago. “You texted me saying you got an autographed photo from some senior idol. You asked me to go to a KTV alumni mixer, and in exchange, you promised to gift me a skin in War of the Three Kingdoms.”

Luo Luo’s eyes widened. She could never forget the first time she got an idol’s autograph. “I remember that! I picked you up and sent you the skin right in front of your face before you’d even get in the car. I don’t remember the details of the night, though. I just remember you left early. When I saw you the next day, you hadn’t even changed your clothes, but you wouldn’t tell me where you’d been.”

Le Yiqiu didn’t have those memories. The gap between falling asleep that afternoon and waking up in 2023 was a complete void. Whether it was amnesia or time travel, the diagnosis was “memory loss,” and she was happy to let that be the official explanation.

Knowing where the thread of memory had snapped, Luo Luo pulled up a chair and began to weave the story of the last decade for her.

In 2013, they had started university together. Luo Luo had been dropped off by her family, but Le Yiqiu had arrived alone. That entire summer, despite visiting her house dozens of times, Luo Luo had never met Le Yiqiu’s parents.

Ever since overhearing that conversation at twelve, Le Yiqiu had lived with her grandmother. She rarely saw her parents, and when she did, they had nothing to say to each other. Her longing for their love had withered away long ago.

Her grandmother had made sure she was taken care of, though. She’d left Le Yiqiu three apartments in the city, an education fund, and a pension. She’d even bought her a flat closer to the city center. Her grandmother had planned out her entire life. Even without parents, she could have lived comfortably.

Yet, despite all that, what child doesn’t yearn for their parents’ love?

“In university, you were the same as ever,” Luo Luo continued. “Sunny, athletic, and constantly pursued. You have no idea how long Director Lou chased you. She didn’t get a single glance in return, but she was the most persistent.”

Le Yiqiu shrugged. She’d always been popular; it didn’t phase her. She signaled for Luo Luo to keep going.

“There was a period where you were always out. You claimed you were working a part-time job, but I knew better. You were a little heiress; your parents sent you a fixed allowance every month. You didn’t need the money.”

Le Yiqiu’s heart stirred at the mention of the allowance. Does that mean they didn’t completely forget I exist? But what was she doing that she felt the need to hide from Luo Luo?

Luo Luo laid out the highlights of the decade. They’d collaborated on a micro-movie during their junior year—Le Yiqiu’s directorial debut—and won an international award. Luo Luo entered the industry, and Le Yiqiu’s star was on the rise. Le Yiqiu was fast-tracked to a master’s program, and during her first year of grad school, she joined a film crew to assist her professor.

“That was the year,” Luo Luo said, her voice dropping, “that you married Lin Xianing.”

Lin Xianing had been the lead in the professor’s film. They had spent three months on set together in early 2018. No one knew exactly what happened behind the scenes, but by October, they were married.

“You never told me the details. All I know is that you had a massive falling out with your parents around that time. I never found out why.”

Le Yiqiu remained calm. Her relationship with her parents was held together by a very thin thread; it wasn’t surprising that it had eventually snapped.

Luo Luo looked frustrated. “With your talent and your professor’s backing, you should have been a world-class director by now. But instead…”

Instead, after graduating, Le Yiqiu had retreated. She’d become a hermit, a “shut-in” who did nothing but play games and stay at home. Luo Luo didn’t know if it was the marriage or something else that had broken her friend’s spirit.

“Don’t worry about it,” Le Yiqiu said. “I’m sure I had my reasons for the choices I made.”

She knew her marriage to Lin Xianing was a contract, but even if the paperwork was fake, she suspected the feelings were real. She wasn’t the type to self-destruct over a breakup. Something else must have happened—a mountain of small things or one big catastrophe.

But to the current Le Yiqiu, it didn’t matter. She felt eighteen. Aside from the age of her body, she was eighteen. She was athletic, she was vibrant, and she refused to stay withered.

The only thing she truly wanted to solve was the mystery of Lin Xianing. Why the contract? Why the distance? Her heart didn’t care about logic; the moment she’d seen Lin Xianing, she’d felt that spark. Finding out the woman was her wife only made the feeling stronger.

She was going to date Lin Xianing. It was that simple. If you feel a spark, you follow it. If you like someone, you chase them. How would she know it was impossible if she never tried? Life had enough regrets; she wasn’t going to add another one to the pile.

Luo Luo looked at her friend’s optimistic face and felt a sense of relief. Maybe amnesia was a blessing. The flower that had nearly died was finally drinking in the light again.

“Wait, what did you say?” Luo Luo suddenly realized. “You like Lin Xianing? You want to pursue her?”

“Aren’t you two getting a divorce? Are you crazy? Or is love really that weird—you don’t remember her, but you fall for her all over again?”

“When did you even meet her?”

“Yesterday. No, the day before,” Le Yiqiu corrected. She’d been out for a day, so their first meeting was technically two days ago.

Luo Luo: “…”

“So you’re saying… today was only the second time you’ve ever seen her?”

Le Yiqiu nodded. “Yep.”

“You fell for her after two meetings?”

Le Yiqiu couldn’t explain the feeling. The fluttering in her chest appeared every time she even thought of Lin Xianing. It was too powerful to ignore, but too hard to put into words.

She decided to change the subject. “How is it that ten years have passed and your face hasn’t changed at all? Are you taking preservatives?”

Luo Luo waved it off. “Don’t get me started. Looking young is great, but it’s a curse for an actress. All I get offered are idol dramas.”

Every actress wanted awards and recognition for their craft, not just gossip about their face. Perhaps that was why she’d always looked up to Lin Xianing. Even now, the Film Queen was her ultimate goal.

Le Yiqiu grinned. “What about your love life? Don’t tell me you’re still a ‘Lone Peony’?” (1)

“You’re the peony!” Luo Luo rolled her eyes.

Le Yiqiu’s eyes lit up. “Are you in a relationship?!”

“No!” Luo Luo’s reaction was a bit too fast, and she quickly looked away.

In front of her best friend, Luo Luo’s acting skills failed her completely. Le Yiqiu could smell a story from a mile away.

She was about to pry when Luo Luo put her hands on her hips. “Is now really the time to talk about my love life? What are you going to do next?”

“About what?”

“About work! Life! You aren’t planning on staying a hermit, are you?”

Le Yiqiu blinked. She still had the mindset of a student; the idea of “work” felt alien. She had no memory of her professional skills. But she knew one thing: she wasn’t going to stay in bed.

Before she could work, she had to get healthy. And while she got healthy, she had a much more important project to plan.

How, exactly, does one woo a superstar wife who already wants a divorce?

Leaving an ideal type like that would be a lifelong regret.

*******

(1) “Lone Peony” (Mudan) is Chinese internet slang for someone who has been single since birth.

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